Cottage By the Sea
by Daerwyn
Summary: Draco never imagined he'd live outside the Manor. With the death of his wife, Draco took to the Muggle world with his daughter. He never wanted to meet Granger again, never wanted to see her or any of her heroic friends. He just wanted the solitude and the peace. But that never came with an inquisitive bookworm that thirsted for the knowledge of something she didn't understand.


The sun shining on his face awoke Draco that morning. It wasn't that he wasn't used to the sun shining on his face - he had woken the same for the past four years - but it was the fact that he hadn't woken to the sun the rest of his life that had bothered him. For eighteen years he lived sheltered in the Manor's dark rooms and dim windows. It had kept his skin white and his hair even whiter. The way a proper Malfoy should look, he had been told. His nineteenth year, he had taken to his summer home in France - almost upsettingly close to the Delacour family. That was when she had arrived. Astoria Greengrass.

The two of them had resumed the relationship from their Hogwarts days, marrying just as the summer waned. She had been with child by autumn. The news of their child, added to the fact that the war had only just ended, eased no tension in the Wizarding World. As he lay in the sunlight, he couldn't help but think of exactly how many nights he had heard Astoria cry over the death threats their child had received. Though it was seen as an era of light, it didn't stop people from being dark.

It was decided their daughter would be born in a Muggle hospital - as they didn't trust the security of St. Mungo's any farther than Draco could throw it. Narcissa Malfoy had been present, and Draco was sure that if the war had gone differently, he wouldn't have even lived long enough to utter the words his wife was in labor. His father would have struck him down on the spot. But Lucius was gone now - Dementor's Kiss and in a secure ward of Azkaban for the Death Eaters that could be finally tried. Draco hadn't even flinched as the sentence was read that day. He had nearly jumped for joy. But Malfoys didn't do that.

The birth had been smooth, both Astoria and their daughter, Felicity, healthy and sleeping soundly when he had been up to check on them after he signed a few papers at hospital. They returned to the summer manor, making it their permanent residence, when Astoria had fallen ill. Muggle medicine couldn't explain it, and he knew they tried the best they could, so Draco had his mother watch Felicity while he took her to St. Mungo's.

He closed his gray-blue eyes painfully as he remembered the harsh treatment they had been given. Biased healers, threats whispered to them by the patients. Though Draco had been cleared of all charges by Boy-Wonder Potter himself, that didn't undo the seven years of bitterness he had given all those he had come to contact with. It didn't erase the Dark Mark he kept hidden on his forearm. A mistake that would never be rewritten.

They had been thrown out for civil unrest by Aurors, Astoria never getting the treatment she needed. Felicity had only been six months old when she passed. And it was after Astoria's funeral - announced to the entire Wizarding World in the Prophet as a saving grace - that Draco needed air. He told his mother he would be gone for a while and, taking Felicity, he had purchased a small Muggle cottage in the middle of a decent sized farm. And he gave up his magic until the Wizarding World got over their prejudice, just like he had.

That had been little over three years ago, and Draco had gotten over his wife's death, but had not left the Muggle world. He stilled as the bedroom door creaked open, his hand gripping his wand tightly from underneath his pillow. He relaxed as he heard the soft patters of feet on the floorboards. And then the mattress bowed to the intruder.

"Wake up, silly!" For a moment, Draco heard his wife's voice in that of his daughter's, before he groaned when her elbow came down sharply onto his side. So she had jumped on him.

Turning over quickly, making the girl squeal, Draco growled and began to tickle the offending creature that invaded his bedroom every morning since she had learned to walk. She brought out a side of him that he didn't even know he had. Her eyes were like his own, gray and bright with having snuck around. A Slytherin trait, no doubt. Her curly blonde hair was just a shade darker than his own, as well. She looked exactly like Draco, not a hint of Astoria at all. He wondered if that made it easier on him.

The little girl was giggling as her father's nimble fingers tickled her belly, as her pajama shirt had ridden up during the assault, and squirming helplessly.

"Daddy, stop it!" she squealed, her hands whacking his own half-heartedly.

Finally he let go of her, but he leaned over her with a wide grin on his face. It was an emotion that was foreign to him before Felicity was born. He hadn't smiled much. "What time is it?" he asked her, already knowing.

"Eight o'clock, silly," she answered, pullng her shirt down with a huff. She suddenly brightened and showed him her teeth, which were freshly brushed. "I'm all ready to go check on Elly!" Draco did his best to not groan at the mention of the creature Felicity had insisted upon when she was two. He didn't know why he gave in. Maybe it was because she had decided "There needs to be a Mummy here, Daddy. You get quiet a lot. I want that one" and he had been too shocked to reply. Or maybe it was because her accidental magic had scared the milk man away and now they didn't get any milk.

Whatever the reason was, Draco sighed and slid out of the bed to pull his t-shirt on. Squealing in delight,Felicity ran from the room. "No running!" Draco called to her. He heard a muffled "Sorry" before he ran a hand through his hair. Longer now, but not so much that it was in his eyes. He barely bothered to comb it back anymore. It wasn't as if he was attending a social event.

Felicity was practically vibrating as he exited the small bedroom. She was at the back door, tugging on her rain boots with as much strength as she could muster. Glancing at the window of the back door, though the sun was shining, the leaves were wet and the path up the farm hill was moist and muddy. Yes, rain boots were in order for the girl that would be splashing in the puddles.

"Breakfast, or will it have to wait, again?" Draco inquired, slipping his own boots on. He helped her into a light jacket before pushing open the back door. It wasn't that he refused to use magic - he did only in cases of emergency or to protect Felicity. He simply didn't find the need of it anymore. He was learning. Getting rid of every prejudice his father had taught him through first hand experience. Life as a Muggle. He had never thought he'd be here.

He never wanted to, before.

The war changed a lot of things. The little girl that sprinted up the mud path, giggling that breakfast could wait, was the one thing untainted in his life. Innocent in all regards. He wanted to keep it that way. She knew nothing of magic, nothing of the world he fled from. The world that condemned them to the life they had now. No owls, no Floo calls. He made his own mother apparate two miles away and walk to the cottage. He wanted to risk nothing. Because Felicity may want to go to that world.

He knew she'd have to learn about it eventually, but not until it changed. Not until it was safe.

The cow was standing at the edge of the fence along the path, its head rubbing against the wooden barrier as it nibbled on grass. Felicity's hand was already rubbing the animal's head in delight, just as she did every other morning. Elly seemed to not care anymore that the little girl would disturb her morning graze. Draco was always ready to intervene in case the cow got upset. But it never did.

He just hated cleaning up the cow shit.

He looked out on the land around them, admiring. They had a good plot, no neighbors that could be seen on any side, and just a small single lane road at the top of the hill. Draco only counted about five cars passing a day. It was quiet. A few chickens clucked in the distance and Draco eyed the offensive black cow before he made his way to the coup near the cottage. She knew to back away.

There were five eggs ready, which was a good amount for the two of them. And the herbs to add seasoning were easy to pluck from the garden. "Felicity!" Draco called towards the path. The blonde girl looked up at once, smiling so widely he could see it from where he was. "I'm making breakfast."

"Scrambled eggs and toast, please!" she called back, before turning to Elly the cow and talking to it, too quietly for Draco to hear. He left the back door open, should she shout for him, and went to the small kitchen, putting a kettle of tea on and turning on the electric stove. Being from the Wizarding World, Draco hadn't been well adept in Muggle culture. It had taken him a while to get the hang of all the things Muggles called electricity. When Felicity was much too young to remember, he had a house elf from the Manor teach him what he needed to know.

He cracked the eggs in the pan before washing off the herbs he had collected, chopping them with practiced grace, and then adding it to the eggs for flavor. The only things Draco traveled to the Muggle town for was milk, meat, and grains. Juice he squeezed from the magically enhanced orange and apple trees that shaded the cottage. The orange tree was charmed to survive in cold climates so he could harvest it all year round, the apple tree, as well. Other fruits and vegetables in the garden had no chance of surviving in English weather, but because of magic they did.

Felicity didn't suspect anything. She had minimal contact with the Muggle boys down the road. He let her play with them twice a week, but he didn't want her getting too attached when she went to Hogwarts. She wasn't Slytherin material, he knew that the moment she was born. Her eyes were kind, gentle, and honest. She didn't use deceptive means to get what she wanted. She... was more like a bleeding Gryffindor than anything. Draco felt he could live with that. It was better than Hufflepuff.

"Daddy! Daddy! Someone's coming towards the house!" he heard Felicity cry from the garden. He didn't think much about what he did, but he put the frying pan onto a cool burner, turning the stove off, and he sprinted out the back door, his wand clutched in his hand, but not visible.

His daughter barreled into Draco's legs, her expression wary. Draco spotted what she was staring at. It was a woman, a Muggle it seemed, dressed in short white bleached shorts and a top. It wasn't that warm, in the slightest, and Draco felt that she had to have been freezing. A car was parked atop the hill, on the road. Why would she stop?

Draco turned to Felicity, but his eyes never left the Muggle approaching. He couldn't make out her face, she was too far away for that. "Felicity, go to your room, alright? I'll see who it is."

"But-" Felicity began to protest.

"Now," Draco spoke in a tone that left nothing for argument. The blonde girl hesitated, worried for her father, before nodding and disappearing inside the cottage. Draco waited for the door to shut before he began to walk towards the Muggle, his wand still out, but hidden in his tense grip. He hadn't had unwelcome visitors in... never. Not even Felicity's friends came over.

"Do you need something?" Draco called out to the person. The woman raised a hand, and Draco froze, before he realized that she was just shielding her eyes from the weak sunlight to look down from him.

"Yeah, my car broke down up there!" she returned. She was getting closer, now, and Draco felt his steps falter as he recognized her. "Do you think you could-" She paused, her steps faltering as well. She seemed to recognize him and in an instant, a wand was between his eyes. His was quick to follow. "Malfoy?"

He didn't know any other way to respond. He hadn't seen the girl for... four or five years. Her lion mane had tamed to soft curls, though he couldn't tell too much, as her hair was in a tight braid like Felicity's usually was. It was golden brown, like the dirt they were standing on. And her light freckles under her eyes were on pale skin, her eyes wide and honey brow, showing her surprise at seeing him. "What are you doing here, Granger?" His tone wasn't as sharp as it used to be, but it was cautious, as though she was dangerous. He glanced behind her like the entire Wizarding World was following her.

"Merlin, I thought you were dead," Granger said in shock. She lowered her wand slowly, shaking her head. "No one's heard from you for years and... I... What are you doing out here?"

"Staying away from the likes of you," Draco returned coldly. "Get away from here."

"Look, I know you probably know nothing about cars, but my parents live just down the road and I really need help... So... This-" Granger hesitated, like she was deciding the fate of the world. "Can you help me push it?"

"No," Draco answered simply before turning and walking back towards the cottage.

"No?" Granger cried, incredulous at the blatant refusal. "But-but Malfoy! Wait! I'm- I never meant for my car to break down in front of your house-"

"I'm still not helping, Granger."

"I can't do it by myself, Malfoy."

"Guess you'll just have to walk to your parents, then, huh?" Draco returned, not slowing his steps. Elly gave a lazy moo as Draco passed. "Leave me alone, Granger."

"Malfoy! Come on, you can't... you can't still be mad about that!"

"About what?" he asked, forgetting who it was that was speaking to him. He stopped, turning to face her, and showing mild hints of how confused he was. "What shouldn't I be mad about?"

"The punch I gave you in third year!" Granger said, crossing her arms. She had followed him, her body closer to him than he had heard. He gave a snort. Was she serious? Third year? That was nine years ago. He didn't care in the slightest what happened during school. He just didn't want to help her.

"Grow up, Granger. A measly school banter, I don't care about. Bigger things have happened in this world. More things you should care about. And that includes not invading my privacy-" Draco said slowly, as if a three year old needed to understand. Merlin, even Felicity could understand him better than she seemed able to.

"Grow up?" Granger cried. Why did she need to shout? He hadn't even come close to raising his voice. "I'm not the one holding petty grudges-"

"I'm not the one shouting at me, the only one that could help you," Draco said simply. He raised an eyebrow when she opened her mouth to challenge his statement, and shut it, realizing that was exactly what she was doing. "You asked me a simple question. Can I help you? The answer to that question is yes. But will I help you is what you were implying, which my answer is no. Then you, the Gryffindor Princess, who isn't used to being told no to, decided to invade the silence and privacy of my home by instead shouting upon my person and telling me that I was holding the grudges over idiotic childish scuffles. Which, by the way, I care nothing for as they no longer bother me. We had our past, but I don't want it in my future. I don't want you in my future. And pushing your car-" He jutted his chin towards the metal contraption up the hill, "-will only make you feel the incessant need to come back and thank me. So I'll save you from the return trip and tell you that, you're welcome, but I'm not helping you."

"You can't just-just-" Granger sputtered. She sucked in a breath and gave him a gaze of determination. "Why won't you help me?"

"I'm not getting involved with any of you lot."

"You lot?" she returned heatedly. "Mudbloods, you mean?"

"No," Draco said, his eyes burning with anger. He wanted to shout at her, to tell her that he was living in a bloody Muggle world, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk the chance she'd storm to the Prophet and tell them just that. "Anyone."

"Oh?" Granger spat. "And I suppose your wife, the perfect Pureblood trophy, is just fine and dandy living in the Muggle world? I find that hard to believe. Eighteen years you two hated the Muggles, and since the war, you now just want to avoid wizard kind all together?"

His wife. It was a low blow, even for her. He would expect it out of Weasley, maybe Potter if the Boy-Wonder got enough momentum, but not from the Gryffindor before him. "You really should read the Prophet more often," Draco returned evenly, as though she hadn't lifted the last straw onto the camels back. He swallowed, his anger going down, taking in her confused expression. Ah, he had hit a nerve. She didn't know something, and it was driving her brain mad. She had been wrong about something, and she knew it, but she didn't know what exactly. It made him feel victorious. The Gryffindor Princess hadn't known something before she said it first. "I suggest you start walking. It's two miles to the nearest farm."

"Malfoy!" she cried as he began to walk away once more. "Malfoy, wait- What does that mean?"

He felt his lips twitch into a smirk. She was clueless. A clueless bookworm made for a desperate bookworm. Good, hopefully it would keep her away. Draco shut the back door, locking it, before he moved back to the kitchen. He heard Felicity's bedroom door open and watched as she ran to the back door, peeking through the window. From his own view in the kitchen, he could see Granger staring at the back door, at Felicity, with confusion. She let out a groan of frustration, that Draco couldn't hear, before marching up the path, towards the road.

Good, she could stay away.

"Who was that, Daddy?" Felicity asked.

"Just a girl that wanted directions," Draco said smoothly. Felicity liked this answer and nodded once before joining her father in the kitchen. "Do you want to do the toast?"

The girl squealed and nodded, already grabbing the bread bag from the pantry and putting two slices into the toaster, warm and ready. It was bread Draco had made the morning before. He made everything now. They did. Felicity climbed onto a bar stool, peering intently at the metallic toaster.

"Watching won't make it cook faster," Draco said, his previous anger evaporating the more he watched the girl. She was so... innocent. Childlike. He wondered if he was ever that way. She stuck out her tongue at him.

"I know that, silly. But I like watching it turn gold," Felicity said a matter of factly. "It's pretty. And it's always different. Like a snowflake!"

Ah, snowflakes. The blonde's last fascination since the first snowfall of the last winter. "Fine, as long as you know it doesn't golden any faster," Draco shrugged. He couldn't care less how she spent her time, as long as she wanted to spend a majority of it with him. It was why he loved the cottage so much. There wasn't that much distraction. They were father and daughter, a family, and they spent their time as such. The cottage was where Draco was happy.

* * *

For some reason, the first time I posted this chapter, it had a bunch of formatting things on it. Fixed now! Thank you to those that pointed it out!


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